I have been on a string of so many days hung low. The truth is I am often tired of being alive, of daylight streaming through the translucent glass of my body, my… Continue reading
The Bull The woman sits at the bar. Next to her a man plays pool. She admires his flanks as he bends over the table. She’s trying to quit smoking so she’s sucking… Continue reading
Where fat doesn’t matter, or bones, bodies ideal and folded into the murk, skins unfamiliar under the sludge patted into wrinkles, over scars and freckles. Take the healing of it, years stripped down… Continue reading
*** Lisa López Smith lives and writes from her home in central Mexico. When she’s not wrangling goats or rescue dogs or kids, you can probably find her riding her bike or painting.… Continue reading
Park Row is an alley. Beneath the day-lit zenith, visibility is ten miles. If my city vanished, I’d see a quarter million acres: bare ocean, alluvial plain. But Park Row is an alley,… Continue reading
With its immersed perspectives, AM : PM occupies the space we hold between each other. Drawing through the multiple realities of a view on today’s China, it evokes a sense of being… Continue reading
Characters: Platform Actors (4 actors, any age, any ethnicity; their lines are not given out individually; rather, it is up to the director/choreographer to work with the performers to figure out which lines… Continue reading
October 2 Dear Mallory, I have been looking for your face among all the faces in this city, but it appears you aren’t here. When I was at Walgreens the other day buying… Continue reading
Lots of things come and go—the last bowl from our wedding set cracked but did not shatter. The other seven spit shards at the dump, still pyrex white and hopeful where the flowered… Continue reading
I tasted blood. Must have been picking at my lips again. Scraping that bump in the middle of my top lip as if to smooth a seam, or pulling away any chapped strips.… Continue reading
My mom cried on the floor because she was afraid of the police shooting me dead. My mom cried on the floor because she was afraid of the police shooting me My mom… Continue reading
What’s Worth Keeping What if it didn’t matter that your parents left to spend two years in Somalia, ripped you from Ferrara to live with estranged grandparents in Kansas? What would remain of… Continue reading
*** Elisabetta Martignetti’s work is inspired by fairy tales, literature, comics and manga, cartoons and anime, magic and nature. Her style has been described as “girly nostalgic punk’ with themes on… Continue reading
My birthday and my wife’s birthday are six days apart. So, every year my parents make the three and a half hour trip to our house to celebrate and spend time with their… Continue reading
As we noticed in the streets a handbill headed, “Death! one hundred and forty-five lives lost at Cohasset,” we decided to go by way of Cohasset. … Continue reading
marriage is an institution for the insane— from disorder comes cohabitation, (procreation) psychic pain: siblings will be killers (cf. Cain) brother / traitor : sister / slap—and daddy’s little girl grows up insomniac—… Continue reading
On viewing Apollonio di Giovanni di Tomaso’s Panel from a Marriage Chest with Story of Apollo and Daphne I. Cassone, Italian. An ornate box given to a bride and placed in the bridal… Continue reading
“The Glass of Wine” Tribute to Johannes Vermeer Oil on Canvas, 75 x 65 cm 2016 To give meaning to his “compressed” or “wavy” works, Amicone says we must leap into the… Continue reading
Because we cannot know, we keep walking, keep getting up each morning, drinking coffee. Because we cannot know, I’m drinking coffee that morning in Thailand, not on the beach but just off, because… Continue reading
Centrifugal Stain My cat bit a tick that had lodged itself in her tail, breaking the exoskeleton with such force that the blood made a rapidly curving arc that spun into discs. Its… Continue reading
In early summer I woke up in bed with a spanking new brain. I had just come back to Arizona from Utah, a land where spring is too chicken to push back against… Continue reading
Foreword Animalia, a fragmented epic of rhymed verse in 124 lines, is all that remains of the lost masterpiece of Coleridge McClintock Eng, navigator and poet aboard the Mischief, Lord Alfred Russell… Continue reading